This Boy Can't Dance

Over Labor Day weekend, my friend Tracey flew down to visit me. On Friday evening, she took me out to go swing dancing at the Chevy Chase ballroom. I had never been swing dancing before, and I figured it wouldn't hurt for me to learn how to dance. I discovered that I have almost zero talent for swing dancing, and it didn't help that most of the people there were excellent swing dancers. I couldn't quite get the "rock step" to work right with the rhythm, and Tracey said that I looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

On Saturday evening, we went down to Adams Morgan for clubbing. Again, we went dancing (although not the swing dance variety, thankfully). My talent for club dancing is marginally better than my swing dancing, but it is still pretty pathetic. Given that I have danced very little in my life, it was not really a suprise to me that I didn't have any talent. I felt a little like the poor guy in the movie Hitch, except he had a lot more talent than I do. Perhaps I need to take a dance class. Or two. Or a thousand. I wonder if practice can make up for the lack of a rhythm gene?